Mea Culpa
by Krem
Summary: Flare-Up leads a foolish mission to rescue Elita-1, and must face the dire consequences of her actions.


**This is another tale in my personal continuity. It takes place not long before _Only A Witness_, just as Elita-1 is being captured. Arcee, Chromia, and Flare-Up witnessed the abduction, but were unable to intervene in time. Arcee then chose to contact Optimus, while Flare-Up convinced Chromia to undergo a suicide mission: storm Kolkular to rescue ****Elita-1.**

* * *

_Mea Culpa_

Decepticons rushed towards Flare-Up as she shot past her sister. Guns blazing, blades shimmering, whips cracking, her foes grew closer and closer and closer. In a frenzy of flailing limbs, two were downed, then a third, then a fourth. As a fifth prepared to cut her down as she drove onward towards the enemy fortress, Flare-Up leapt into the air with a gleeful whoop and drove across the brute's ugly face, leaving tread marks up his nose. As she tumbled through the air, she shot a charge of electromagnetism through her arm-mounted circular saw, to make sure the brute would fall when she sliced him.

The blade passed through air. Taken aback, Flare-Up searched for the brute to find him already decapitated, Arcee hovering over him.

Slag. She looked _ticked_.

How the frag had she even caught up with them so quickly? Flare-Up was hoping this could be a two-mech job.

"FALL BACK NOW!" Arcee ordered angrily, clearly unhappy with Flare-Up's ingenious plan. It may not have been the most original plan, but at least nobody else had thought to storm the Decepticon stronghold almost singlehandedly. The Decepticons sure hadn't seen it coming. Boy, were they disorganized.

"No way!" Flare-Up protested (much to the dismay of her two siblings), "we started this, we finish it!"

"She's got a point," Chromia agreed as she clubbed down a trio of Decepticon scouts. "We're better off pressing on at this point – I just saw Elita-1 pushed through the main doors not two cycles ago."

"I don't have time to argue this with you!" Arcee barked, letting loose a volley of grenades. "You're going to get yourselves-"

A katana shot through Arcee. A twist. A gasp. A cough. Her optics darkened. Her color faded. Her life deteriorated.

"ARCEE!" Flare-Up and Chromia screamed in unison.

The sword slid coldly out of her torso, her lifeless shell fell to the ground, and the world became a haze.

* * *

Bludgeon looked down at the carnage he had caused, and silently hoped Primus would forgive him. War was war, but these were foolish lambs who had wandered into a wolves' den. The two Autobots were in shock, not moving at all.

_Fools! Why do you not run?_

He charged his primary weapon and fired at the ground before them, unable to kill the helpless children gawking at their fallen comrade. It produced the intended effect, and, drawing his dagger, Bludgeon advanced.

The fiery youth lunged viciously at him with a saw, and he deflected each blow with ease. This was child's play, no challenge. Despite the obvious dishonor of such an action, Bludgeon knew could slay either of them in a nanoklik.

Within a few moments, the elder assassin charged a massive nucleon shock cannon, and took aim, waiting for her grief-stricken sister to give her a clear shot. Bludgeon did not mean to allow that, and so kept the girl between them. He studied her closely as they dueled, and it became clear that she had forgotten tactics altogether when her sister had perished.

Her frantic flailing suddenly bore fruit. Somehow, she managed to break through his defenses, and a garish scar appeared on his arm. To buy a moment for analysis of the wound, he allowed himself to instantly break her down and send her flying into one of the many distorted growths of metal jutting out of the surrounding terrain.

As he ran a diagnostic, he waited for the inevitable nucleon shock blast to come his way.

It did not.

In a moment, he was behind cover, searching for the Autobot. Bludgeon had underestimated her; she must have been planning something. In another moment, he saw her locked in battle with Blackout. And unlike Bludgeon, he was not steadied by the reigns of honor or mercy. Alas, the poor child would not be able to defeat him!

Compassion shot through the Decepticon. When Megatron ordered Elita-1's abduction, Bludgeon never anticipated this result. More destruction, more violence! When would this accursed war end? When would the Autobots see that they must surrender? When would Cybertron finally see peace?

Bludgeon desired no further part in this slaughter. There was no honor in this… execution. Yet there was no honor in aiding the Autobots, either. At any rate, he had no such intentions. Instead, he remained hidden, and nursed his wound. It was hindering enough that an ordinary soldier would not be able to continue without repair, but Bludgeon was a warrior. Still, he could claim to have been in no state to assist Blackout if questioned. It would only be a few moments before….

He looked past his cover again, to see that the anticipated horror had already come to pass.

* * *

Chromia was outmatched, and she knew it. Blackout was a skilled swordsman; she was mediocre at best. It would not be long before he tore past her defenses, and left Flare-Up alone.

No. This couldn't be happening. She had to get out, grab Flare-Up and run. Just run. Far away from Kaon, far away from Nova Cronum, far away from this war, far away from _everything_. In vain, she thrust her blade to Blackout's face, and he flicked it away like a cyberbee.

No! He had her now; with no melee weapon, she was defenseless at close combat. She drove circles around him, hoping he would be caught off-balance. Instead of even trying to stop her, he charged his primary sonic cannon, and aimed it at the unconscious Flare-Up.

NO! Chromia leapt at him, tackling the Decepticon to the ground. But in no time at all he was back up, but this time without his swords. They were locked in a fistfight now, one which Chromia could not win. Every blow she landed bounced off his armor as if it were nothing, and every clout of his left more of her systems critically damaged. She could hardly see now. But she had to keep fighting, had to protect Flare-Up, had to get her sister out alive, had to-

No…

* * *

Flare-Up's vision was hazy, but even in her state, she knew this was not home. Kaon! She was in- and the Decepticons- Bludgeon had- Arcee! ARCEE!

Her sister was dead. Dead, and all because of her childish ambitions!

But where was Chromia? There! She was fighting with Blackout, blindly hitting him again and again, but he looked as if he didn't feel a thing! Flare-Up tried to get up to help her, but her limbs weren't responding. She managed to sit up, and then kneel, but by then it was too late.

Flare-Up watched in horror as a massive shot went through her sister's chest, and she fell to the ground. And it was her fault… her fault!

"Run…" she choked. Then she was gone.

As Blackout turned then to her, Flare-Up yelled at him furiously.

"Go ahead, then! Kill me! KILL ME!"

* * *

Blackout stared in shock. It was not the idea of killing this pathetic little wretch that frightened him; it was what she had said. Not long ago, he had heard those exact words from Blackarachnia, when Megatron had ordered her termination. She was a failed experiment, a transmutated freak that refused to obey Megatron's commands. Yet she had a spark. She was different. She was beautiful. No one else saw _who_ she was, only _what_. It was not by Megatron's command that Blackout had killed her, but by a horrible accident.

**Author's Note: My imagining of Blackarachnia is essentially Transmutate (from the eponymous episode of _Beast Wars_), where Blackout and Sideswipe play the roles of Rampage and Silverbolt, respectively. The twist is that Blackarachnia has no cognitive disability, and manages to unintentionally entice the two rivals. Upon being told that Megatron had ordered Blackout to kill her, she challenged him to do it, proclaiming as stated above, and also calling Blackout a coward, like all Decepticons who kill those with whom the disagree. We now return to our regularly scheduled slaughterfest.**

And now this Autobot echoed her words. He looked in her eyes, and saw only Blackarachnia. Blackarachnia never deserved to die. And neither did this one. She was just like Blackarachnia…

He could not kill her. Not again…

* * *

Flare-Up waited for the death blow. But it didn't come. She finally looked up, to see Blackout staring at her, not moving.

He snapped awake, and began to bark out commands.

"Get up! You're coming with me."

What?

"DO AS I SAY!" he bellowed when she did not listen. "You will join your friend in the dungeon."

Why? Why had she been spared? She deserved to die for what she had done! It was her fault that her sisters were dead; it was her fault that they had ever been in danger; it was all her fault.

Her fault…

* * *

**So yet again I prove a heretic. Bludgeon is the hesitant Decepticon with a sense of honor, and Blackout has one soft spot. And I may be related to Joss Whedon. I am not ashamed.**

**Oh, and the title is Latin for "my fault."**


End file.
